The One Where Everyone Cries
by Gandalf3213
Summary: Chandler comes home to find an empty apartment and a critically injured Joey. A rush to the hospital reveals wounds none of the Friends had ever encountered. Will they be able to cope?
1. Pain

**I don't own Friends. I wish I did.**

**A/N: Kind of an excert from _The One With the Cat _when Joey and CHandler try to get rid of the Entertainment Center. Then it takes on its own form.**

"Hey, Joe, anybody come by―" Chandler stopped, his mouth hanging slightly open as he surveyed his apartment.

There was no furniture. The only thing in the room was the huge Entertainment Center. Chandler would have laughed at the irony of it. If he hadn't been so scared. Where was Joey? He circled around the counter and spotter a large red puddle lying just in front of the counter. He knew that his heart had stopped. He was gasping for air, his brain turned icy cold. Oh no...oh no...oh no...

"Joey?" Chandler glanced into both bedrooms ― from what he could see most of the stuff was still there. But no Joey. "Joey!"

Scared now, Chandler spun in a circle, about to run into Monica's apartment. He had to tell her. Alert someone. A soft thumping brought him back into his deserted living room.

Crossing the to entertainment center. He moved a stick away and opened the door. For a split second he remembered months ago when Joey had first built the stupid thing. CHandler had bet that a grown man couldn't fit inside. When Joey climbed into the cabinet he shut the door and barred it just like now. The feeling of de ja vu was so strong that Chandler's head spun. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Inside was Joey. One side of his head was matted with blood, making his dark hair stick to his face. Bruises littered his arms and there was a dirty shoe impression in his back. Chandler groaned, reaching out his hands to bring Joey out of the cramped space. He shook him gently, trying not to hurt him.

"Joe? C'mon buddy, you okay?" Chandler tried to keep his voice low and even but he could feel tears dripping down his cheeks.

Joey's eyes opened he looked up at Chandler and tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace as he rolled over, curling automatically into a ball. Chandler brought himself over to his friend, his hands again reaching out and drawing Joey's body to his.

"Sorry Chandler." Joey muttered, his face pressed into Chandler's shirt.

"Shhh...don't talk." Chandler said, trying to think of what to do. Joey was hurt. Bad. But the phone was gone, along with the rest of the appliences. Could he leave Joey while he went across to Monica's?

Joey kept talking his words coming through now and then. "Was stupid...didn't think...so big...hurts...hurts a lot..." He was drifting now, hovering on the edge of unconsciousness. Chandler rocked him gently, desperetly trying to think.

"Chandler?" Monica came through the door, saw them on the floor, and screamed. "Oh my god...Joey!"

Chandler looked up and saw her frozen to the spot. "Monica, call an ambulance!" Chandler shrugged off his coat and laid it over his friend's not prone body as Monica rushed out. "You're going to be okay Joe." he assured him in the calmest voice he could muster. He was assuring himself at the same time.

Because Chandler wasn't really sure of anything.

**Reviews are nice.**


	2. Hospitals

**I don't own them.**

Ross was the last one to the hospital. He rushed over to where his friends were waiting, huddled in a group. They looked serious, their faces grave. "Hey guys." Ross said, then, "Chandler, how're you doing?"

Chandler shrugged. Rachel's arm was on his shoulder and Phoebe was leaning on him.

"What happened?" Ross had gotten a garbled phone call two hours before from Rachel. He'd been in the middle of class and her voice had ripped right through him. _Joey...hurt...hospital...hurry..._ He had forced himself to finish his lecture before bolting to the hospital, wondering what had happened.

"Well..." Chandler's voice wasn't strong and Ross was surprised to see his friend on the edge of tears. "I came home and there was nothing. No furniture or anything, except the stupid Entertainment Center. Joey had been there trying to sell it, right? Then I noticed there was blood _everywhere_. I opened the Entertainment Center and Joey was stuffed inside." He drew in a breath of air, but didn't say anything else. He didn't trust himself not to break down.

"He'd been beaten bad, Ross." Rachel explained, one hand reaching out to bring Ross into their circle. "The doctors said they're surprised he's not dead."

Ross did a double take. Joey? Dead? What was happening? Who would hurt Joey?

"We haven't heard anything from the doctors except that he has a bad concussion and he was stabbed in the stomach by...something." Monica said, her voice high and fast.

Ross turned back to Chandler, "This must be terrible for you." It was hard for all of them, but Joey was Chandler's best friend. His Bert to his Ernie. Chandler nodded.

"How could I let this happen?" Chandler said, the voice coming out rough.

Ross grew stern, he threw an arm over Chandler's shoulder and led him a little way away from the girls. "Listen, you didn't do anything to make this happen, okay? None of this is your fault."

"I know." Chandler wiped a sleeve over his eyes. Ross noticed that his white shirt was stained with blood. "But...I mean...Ross, it's _Joey_."

Ross understood. "I know. I'm sorry, but listen, we're all here, okay? He's going to pull through this. He'll be fine."

"How can you be sure?"

Ross shrugged. "I can't be, but―"

The conversation would have gone on like this for another ten minutes if the doctor hadn't walked into the waiting room. The group moved over to him when he called, "Is there anyone here for a...Joseph Tribioni?"

When they were all around him, he told the group, face grave, "Joseph has slipped into a coma. The wound on his head exerted too much pressure on the brain. Right now we're trying to fix his lung. It was punctured by the knife."

The group was silent. They stood, gaping at the doctor. "What?" Pheobe asked, her mouth hanging open.

The doctor looked at them, his eyes kind and sympathetic. "I'm sorry. With any luck, he'll wake up in a day or two. If he doesn't...well, the chances get slimmer." he cleared his throat. "Ordinarily, I'd let you see him, talk to him. But he's just coming out of surgery. It'll be another hour or so."

The doctor left. Chandler turned around and stared at Ross and the girls who stared back at him. Then he started crying, tears dripping down his cheeks. He couldn't see anyone else. He didn't realize they were crying too.

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	3. Tears

**I don't own them. Sorry.**

It ended up being two hours until they saw Joey. Two hours of all three of the girls crying. Of Ross and Chandler trying to comfort them while holding back their own tears. Two hours of no one talking, or at least not about Joey. Two long, long hours of waiting. And waiting.

And waiting.

Until finally a young doctor came out. She looked tired and frustrated. The six were the only people in that particular waiting room at nearly eleven thirty on a Tuesday. She walked right over to them. "Hello." She said, her voice warm, "You can see him now, if you like. But," she warned, "He's in a coma. We're hopeful that he should come out of it."

"What are his other injuries?" Ross asked quietly. Nobody else could seem to get words out.

The woman frowned slightly. "Three bad head wounds, one deep enough to crack the skull. The swelling is what induced the coma. Two cracked ribs, one broken, probably from a heavy boot. Broken wrist. He also got a knife to the chest." She pointed to Ross's midriff, holding her fingers about three inches apart to show how big it was. "It was deep, and penetrated the lung, as you've heard. We fixed it in surgery. Hopefully there's no complications."

The group knew most of this, of course, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. The doctor shifted slightly, glanced at her watch, then at the group. "Follow me. You can see him. I think that talking to him will help."

Chandler walked by the woman's side. "Do you think Joey will pull through this?"

She bit her lip. "I think he'll need a lot of help."

They walked into the room. There was an empty bed near the door, made perfectly. Joey was a little further away. Chandler groaned, rushing to the bed. He heard somebody (Monica?) gasp. Ross hugged her.

Chandler knelt next to the bed. This couldn't be Joey. Bruises and cuts made his face almost impossible to see. His hair was mostly cut off, his head bandaged. More bandages showed from beneath the sheet. Chandler desperately groped for Joey's hand, then, remembering the doctor's words, spoke. "Hey, Joe." He couldn't get any further. He choked.

Suddenly everyone else was around the bed. Ross had an arm around his sister. He met Chandler's gaze briefly, but Chandler could still see the tears in his eyes. Rachel kneeled on the opposite side of the bed, makeup smeared from crying, her hand clutching Joey's other hand. Phoebe stood near Chandler, her hand on his shoulder as if she needed him to prop her up.

Nobody spoke for a long minute. Chandler realized how often them stood like this, the six of them all connected in one way or another. Only this time Joey wasn't there. Well, he was , technically, but…

Chandler managed to work past the lump in his throat. "Hey buddy." He murmured, pressing nearer to his friend. "Don't worry, we're here. All of us." He choked again. "We're going to take care of you."

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	4. Staying

**I don't own it.**

Chandler wouldn't be moved.

The nurses had tried for over an hour, alternating between pleading with him and threatening to get security, but Chandler was past idle threats now. His hand stayed wrapped around Joey's, holding onto it as tight as he could.

Eventually, the nurses succumbed to the inevitable and allowed Chandler to stay in the room, though they did manage to get the rest out, sending them home to sleep.

Ross was the last one to leave, lingering in the doorway, torn between helping the girls get home (Rachel seemed to be glued to his side) and Joey, who was still not moving in the bed.

"Chandler?"

It was the first words any of them had spoken for over an hour and the sound made Candler jump, his head rising enough to bang on the small table that rested next to the bed. Rubbing it fiercely he looked up, noticing that it was very late (or very early). The window set into the wall displayed nothing but darkness and the clock read 2:30. AM, probably. "Yeah, Ross?"

Ross couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from the sight of Joey, attached to a machine that was breathing for him, his head covered in bruises and bandages. "Take care of him, okay?"

"Yeah. I'll call if anything happens."

Chandler watched them go, letting his mind wander for a moment. If this had been a normal night, they probably would have ended up at the coffee house. Gunther would have kicked them out at eleven, them being the last persons there. Chandler would have been upset about that stupid entertainment center for half the night until Joey did something stupid to make it up to him.

Instead, Chandler lifted himself into the chair that rested next to the hospital bed. He carefully pulled his hand away from Joey, flexing his fingers which had fallen asleep somewhere between midnight and one.

The room was lit by two lights that never seemed to turn off. One was situated just to the right of Joey's bed, giving Chandler enough light to look at him.

He carefully pushed his chair closer to the bed, as if pressing nearer to it for warmth. Chandler remembered what the doctor had said. The coma, if it lasted more then 48 hours, would probably be permanent. Chandler couldn't imagine never talking to Joey again. Couldn't imagine being _this close_ to him and never have Joey look at him again.

It was like that saying everyone was so fond of repeating, 'you never think it'll happen to you.' Comas…they were the things that happened on Joey's stupid soap operas. Not in real life. Not to his best friend.

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	5. Moving

**I don't own them.**

"You have work today."

Ross was standing next to Chandler once again, looking much more "together" then Chandler was. He had fallen asleep in the chair with his fingers still wound around Joey's. They hadn't broken apart yet.

Chandler didn't want to go to work. He didn't want to go back to his now-empty apartment. He didn't want to go anywhere with Joey. And since Joey wasn't moving, that meant he wasn't leaving. "I'm not going."

"Chandler..." Ross's voice was pleading, his eyes seemed to be getting bigger as he tried to force his friend to see reason. "Chandler, at least go home for a few hours. Get some sleep, wash up, one of us will be here at all times. I promise."

It was a few seconds before Chandler spoke. When he did, his voice was low and bitter. "You don't get it. It's my fault."

"How do you work that one out?" Ross folded his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to his other leg, raising an eyebrow,

The words Chandler had been thinking all night spilled out. "If I hadn't been so set on selling that stupid entertainment center he wouldn't have tried to sell it and gotten...gotten..." he choked as he recalled finding his friend stuffed in the cabinet, a pool of dark blood surrounding him.

Ross knelt down so he was eye level with Chandler. "Hey. Look at me." Chandler raised his eyes to meet the wide, gentle brown ones. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. I'm sure Joey doesn't blame you a bit. He'll tell you when he wakes up." Ross talked as though Joey had only fallen asleep for a while.

Chandler bit his lip, his grip tightening around Joey's fingers. "You think so?"

Ross stood up again, "I know so." He reassured Chandler. "Now listen, I don't have to be at work until ten today, I got a later class, so I'll stay here until you get back." They had both given up on Chandler going to work that day. "Phoebe and Rachel are coming around eight. Monica switched shifts, she'll be here at one." He smiled a little. "We're all right here."

Suddenly Ross turned and spoke to the still unmoving Joey. "We're all right here, Joe. We're fighting for you."

He dropped into the chair that, until recently, Chandler had occupied. "It'll be okay." He said quietly when Chandler still didn't uncurl his fingers. "I won't let anything happen to him."

Nodding, Chandler gently began to unwind his fingers from Joey's limp ones. Halfway through he felt a gentle tug and nearly screamed. "He moved, Ross!"

Ross stood up, his face happy but sheltered, not ready to get his hopes up. "Are you sure?"

Another slight tug, this time more like a squeeze, made Chandler nod eagerly, nearly crying now. "He's moving, Ross! He's alright!"

**Well, not quite. I'm to mean to make him okay just like _that_.**

**So anyways, review!**


	6. Thoughts

**I don't own them.**

Ten minutes later, Joey was fully awake. Three doctors and four nurses that had packed into the room were dispersing. Chandler finally leaned over his friend, who hadn't yet said anything. "Joey?" his hand was once again in his friend's. "Joe?"

Joey looked at him, his wide brown eyes hurt and confused. "What?"

"How're you feeling?" The words sounded beyond lame to Chandler, but a lump had caught in his throat and he was barely able to speak around it.

Instead of answering, Joey shifted his position and countered with another question. "Who are you?"

Chandler felt the familiar cold feeling start to creep back into his stomach. The lump in his throat got bigger, so he was glad when Ross answered for him. "Joe...Joey, it's Chandler. I'm Ross." Ross's hand descended onto Joey's shoulder. He flinched away from the touch.

Several long seconds passed where the only sounds were the beeps and whistles of the various machines, then. "Are you going to hurt me again?"

Chandler glanced at Ross, saw he was thinking the same thing, and nodded at him to get a doctor. "No, Joey. We're going to help you." He felt tears prick at his eyes again. How could Joey think that he would hurt him? He would never, never hurt Joey.

Joey's face contorted with pain again. "Then how come I hurt so much?" his voice was quieter now and his eyelids fluttered. Chandler could see that he was going to fall asleep again, and worry gripped him. What if he didn't wake up again?

"I'm sorry, Joey. So sorry." He squeezed Joey's hand and watched his friend drift back to sleep.

The doctor came in a minute later, followed closely by Ross. "What happened?" he demanded Chandler, who was still standing, unmoving, next to Joey's bed.

Chandler tried to explain as best he could while his mind was still trying to grasp the concept of Joey _not knowing who he was_. It was terrifying. The doctor nodded, his eyes flicking between Chandler and Joey, his expression unreadable.

When Chandler had finally finished, the doctor spoke. "What you described was amnesia." Chandler had expected this, but that didn't make the conformation any easier to take. He had thought that amnesia happened only on bad TV shows.

"Amnesia can be caused by many things, but here my best guess is the head wound." Chandler peered behind him at the bandage that covered his friend's head.

"Is there any way to reverse it?" Ross's question pre-empted Chandler's own.

The doctor sighed. "There is no tried-and-true method to reverse amnesia, and sometimes it can't be reversed, if the trauma is too severe. But you should expose him to his normal surroundings as soon as he is able to leave. Bring him home."

And Chandler was sure that he would do just that. Even if Joey didn't remember anything, he _would_ bring him home.

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	7. Home

**I don't own them.**

"Joe...Joey, it's this way."

Carefully, Chandler reached out towards Joey, trying not to get upset when he flinched away from his touch. The doctor had said that after the kind of things Joey had been through, it would be amazing if he let anyone touch him for a few days.

Sighing, Chandler led the way into the apartment. It was still devoid of furniture, though Chandler knew that the police were working to see if they could track down whoever stole their stuff. Chandler didn't really care about the things had been taken. He just wanted to kill the people who had hurt his best friend.

A soft quack followed immediately by a chirp alerted them to the presence of the chick and the duck. Chandler looked down at them, surprising himself by how much he was glad they were alright. Behind him, Joey let out a soft scream.

Turning, Chandler saw him pressed up against the refrigerator (apparently it was too conspicuous to steal) looking down at the animals as if they were lions instead of birds. "It's okay Joey, they won't hurt you?"

Joey looked at him, fear mixing with relief as he asked, "Are you sure."

"Positive." Chandler picked up the duck and held it against him, ignoring its attempts to get free. He stroked it, watching as Joey tentatively stuck out a finger and touched the duck on the head. Then he doubled over in pain.

Dropping the duck on the floor, Chandler led Joey to his room where there was still a bed. "You okay Joe?" he asked, knowing full well that his friend was nowhere near a hundred percent yet. "You want to lie down for a while?"

Joey shook his head, biting his lower lip to keep from showing his pain. "I'm...I'm okay. I'm hungry, though." He cocked his head to one side, thinking, before saying slowly, "I'm always hungry."

"Yeah, you are." Chandler agreed smiling. "C'mere. I think Ross dropped off some stuff." He walked into the kitchen, Joey trialing him, and started rummaging through a brown bag full of groceries.

Joey leaned on the counter. His hair still hadn't grown back, and the bandage on his head stood out exceptionally white against his tanned skin. Chandler noticed that his knuckles were turning white where he gripped the counter. He was in more pain then he was letting on. "Ross...he was at the hospital. With a girl."

Chandler nodded, extracting a jar of mayonnaise, a loaf of bread, and a few pounds of lunch meat. "Yeah, that was Monica. She's Ross's sister."

"Oh." Joey watched as Chandler spread the mayonnaise thick over two slices of bread. "So...I live here with you."

"Yeah, remember? I told you that at the hospital." Chandler patiently put four slices of roast beef on the bread. "We've been living here for a while."

"Okay." Joey accepted the offered sandwich but didn't bite into it. "So...you're not going to leave me, are you?"

Chandler tried to swallow past the lump that was building in his throat. "No, Joey. I won't leave you. I promise."

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	8. Battles

**I don't own them.**

"C'mon Joe."

He immediately stood up. He always moved whenever Chandler told him to now. Chandler bit his lip. It was kind of depressing. "Where?" he asked, reaching for his jacket. Before going out the door, Chandler checked his pockets to make sure he had the keys, laughing quietly to himself as I did. Why bother locking up? Not like they had anything to steal now.

"It's Tuesday." Chandler explained, leading the way out the door. Joey followed quickly as he started down the steps. " I know." He assured Chandler. "Where do we go on Tuesdays?"

Chandler leaned against the door, feeling the cold air hit him like a wall as he stepped into the street. Joey followed him a little more slowly. "We're going to watch Phoebe play tonight." Chandler watched his friend closely. It had been three days since the hospital and Joey had remembered very little, though he diligently tried to learn facts about their close circle of friends, all of whom saw him at least twice a day.

"Oh." Joey looked down, and Chandler saw his head tilt to one side, a characteristic the old Joey hadn't possessed. A few other new characteristics had appeared in Joey after his frightening stay in the hospital, all small, like tilting his head when he was thinking. It had taken Chandler two days to realize that these were all things he himself did. Joey was basing himself off of Chandler.

Glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, Chandler felt his face soften at Joey's expression. He knew that Joey saw the hurt expressions on their friends' faces when he didn't remember them and knew that he was trying. "It's okay Joe, you'll remember eventually. Just take your time."

"No, it's not that..." Joey looked away, embarrassed. Chandler looked ahead. Central Perk was visible, about fifty feet away. He knew that Ross and the girls would be there. He needed to get this sorted out before then.

Stopping, Chandler pulled Joey next to him so they stood flat against an old brick apartment building. Joey no longer flinched when Chandler touched him. "What is it, Joe?" he kept his voice low, his head automatically tilting to one side. "You know you can tell me."

Joey lifted his eyes to Chandler. "I just...I don't know if I can be around that many people. I'm afraid I might...flip out." Joey's ears reddened, a sure sign that he was either angry or embarrassed. Chandler guessed the latter.

"You'll be fine." Chandler put a hand on Joey's shoulder, slowly starting to walk again. "It's not very crowded on Tuesdays. Usually just us and Gunther by the end of the night." He felt Joey nod and gave his friend's shoulder a soft squeeze before opening the door.

Ross's head snapped back as they walked in, his face breaking into an easy grin. Chandler smiled back at him, already shrugging off his jacket in the warmth of the coffee shop. As he had expected, there were very few people, only a young couple talking by the window and their friends.

Chandler took his normal seat on the couch between next to Monica. He waved to Rachel, who had been standing and was now talking to Joey. Chandler saw that Joey looked at ease. Their friends were now a familiar sight to him, even if he couldn't remember them past a few days.

Phoebe extracted her guitar from the case. Chandler rolled his eyes at Ross, who grinned, though most of Ross's attention, like Chandler's, was on Joey. Joey had taken a seat in the old armchair, his eyes darting between Rachel and Phoebe. Chandler remembered a conversation earlier in the day, when Joey had confided in him that he sometimes mixed the girls up. Chandler saw a smile on his lips as he came to a decision.

Chandler bit his lip, Ross's arm coming down on his shoulder. "How are you doing, Chandler?"

"I don't know how much more of this I can take." Chandler confessed. "I can't stand him not remembering. How can he not remember?"

"I don't know." Ross said quietly. "I really don't, Chandler. I'm sorry."

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	9. Onions

**I don't own them.**

Chandler stood next to Joey, watching him carefully as he tried to help Monica slice up onions while surreptitiously sneaking cookies. He had to try not to laugh at his friend's single-minded determination to get another cookie.

"Joey!" Monica laughed and slapped his hand. He looked at her, rubbing his casted hand in mock-distress and smiling crookedly at Monica. If Chandler hadn't known better, he would have thought that this was the old Joey.

Except he did know better. He watched his friend struggle to remember the names as conversation floated around the kitchen. Phoebe was there as well, sitting cross-legged on a kitchen chair with her guitar and stealing just as many cookies as Joey.

But he was getting better. At least that's what Chandler told himself to believe. It had been nearly two weeks since the accident now. He hadn't left Joey alone for more than an hour since, using all of his sick days at work to do so. But being with this new Joey was exciting, and watching him remember things that Chandler had taught him was even more so. This new Joey showed every emotion he felt (not that the old one had been so good at keeping his feelings at bay).

Chandler held down the rolling onion so Joey could cut it easier and was rewarded with a lopsided grin so unlike the old Joey's cool, confident smirk. Navigating the knife carefully, Joey managed to cut another too-thin slice and promptly ate it before Monica could even look their way.

Chandler nudged him, smiling. "Stop that. It doesn't even taste good."

"Yeah it does." Joey's casted arm pushed against Chandler as he tried to cut some more. The cast was the only physical remain of Joey's attack. His ribs, though still bruised, had healed themselves and even the hair that had been chopped off to accommodate the white bandage had started to grow back in its absence.

But not much else seemed to happen. Joey still couldn't recall anything past two weeks ago and the people who had done this were still not captured, since no one had seen them except Joey, who, of course, couldn't remember. It was a cruel cycle that would be ended only by Joey regaining his memory.

On their last visit to the hospital a few days past, Chandler had asked the doctor if there was any way to speed up Joey's memory. His answer was not a hopeful one.

"There isn't even a guarantee that he will get his memory back, and if he does, it could be a manner of days or weeks or years. Usually something from the past stimulates the memory. Just try to get him exposed to everything you can."

So Chandler was told, once again, that there was no "miracle-cure" for whatever Joey had. They would just have to wait and hope for the best, which Chandler was not very good at.

"Joey! There's almost none left!" Monica slapped Joey's casted hand again. Chandler turned to look at them, in the process moving the hand that held the onion the smallest amount.

The knife came down again, slicing into Chandler's hand, sending blood falling to the floor.

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	10. Memories?

**I own them not.**

_Some people come into our lives and quickly leave. Some people stay a whie and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same. Anonymous_

Joey stood, mouth part-open, horror-struck at what he'd done. No. This wasn't right. This wasn't happening.

And the blood swam in front of his eyes, making it hard for him to think clearly. To do anything clearly. He laid his hand against the counter, willing himself not to be sick. His mind slowly, unwillingly began to register what had just happened. Knife. Onion. Blood. _Chandler._

Chandler was holding his hand, a string of words Joey didn't recognize coming out of his mouth as he accepted the towel Monica offered him as she began to guide his hand towards the sink.

Phoebe had stopped playing, her eyes watching the scene, her lips pressed together as she looked worriedly from Joey to Chandler, then back to Joey. "It's okay, Joe. He's not going to die."

Joey nodded without speaking, his eyes trained on Chandler's cut hand. It was his fault...all his fault...and Chandler was hurt because of him. Chandler, who had been so nice to him, who had explained everything to him even as he tried and failed to be the Joey Chandler had once known and loved.

"Breathe, Joey!" Phoebe's command pierced through Joey's near-panic and it was only at her words that he realized he _hadn't_ been breathing. He drew in a breath, the world automatically righting itself as he did so.

He heard Monica talking quietly to Chandler, who's curses had turned back into English ones as his pain subsided. "You'll have to go to the hospital. It's too long and deep to not get stitches."

Chandler nodded, looking over his shoulder at Joey. He saw his friend's stricken face a moment before the man doubled over, his hands clutching his head.

"Joey!" Chandler barely remembered to keep pressure on the now-red towel as he rushed to his friend, kneeling beside him as he looked for a reason for this new pain. "Joe, are you okay?"

Joey nodded slightly, his hands gripping his head harder as a low moan escaped his lips. Why did he hurt so much? All he could think of was the pain...the crushing pain inside his head, as if all of his brains were being squeezed out of it...or in.

Joey's hand grasped Chandler's uninjured one in a desperate attempt to anchor himself to the world of reality, of the world beyond the pain. He barely registered Phoebe's gasp or Monica's scream. The only thing that was real to him was the hand and the pain.

As quickly as it had come, the pain passed. The first thing Joey noticed as he tried to focus was the blood-drenched towel wrapped around Chandler's hand. His friend had forgotten his own pain to help Joey.

Looking up, Joey blinked in surprise. He knew who it was that was kneeling in front of him. This was the man who had stayed with him through thick and thin, his roommate and partner in crime. How could he have forgotten?

"Chandler." He said, quietly, desperately, the one word holding pain and relief and remembrance before he passed out on the hard floor.

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	11. Over

**I don't own them.**

It was over.

Chandler sat in the white room, trying not to look at the needle pulling string through his skin, wincing only slightly if it touched a nerve.

Everyone was there, including Ross and Rachel, who had both been at work before Monica called them. A bottle of wine and cans of beer were open on the table. The doctors, though they objected at first to the alcohol, eventually gave in as the friends celebrated together.

Joey was in the middle of it all, sitting next to Chandler, one hand clasped around his friend's. He was back, his memories and mannerisms and personality all restored with the sight of Chandler's blood. He had just returned from giving a statement to the police, with detailed descriptions of the three men who had hurt him so badly.

"There wasn't anything wrong with me at all." Joey said once again, his voice holding surprise as he thought about it. "I just didn't want to remember."

"I know." Chandler smiled at Joey, who still looked faintly confused at his own behavior. "Listen, we're just glad you're okay. I was kind of starting to think you'd never remember." He stopped, embarrassed as always to admit a flaw.

Joey nodded, accepting this as he reached for his half-empty beer. He raised it to Chandler with a mock-salute. Chandler stuck out his tongue at him. The doctors had given into the alcohol, but they hadn't allowed Chandler to drink any while there was an anesthetic in his system.

A nurse came in, young and blond, carrying a chart for the doctor to sign. Joey let out a low whistle, making the girl turn around. Raising an eyebrow and looking the woman up and down he said, cockily, "How _you_ doing?"

Chandler, Ross, and the girls laughed at that, laughing harder as the girl ignored Joey and left. Ross patted a hurt-looking Joey on the arm, "Better luck next time, man." He said, trying to keep from laughing.

"So you really do remember everything, Joe?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't remember anything that's happened since I was...since the apartment was robbed. But I remember everything else, like..." he thought for a moment, then said, smiling, "Like the time I got that turkey stuck on my head. Remember that, Monica?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "That was a perfectly good turkey, you dumb..." Chandler turned out the rest of the conversation and turned to Ross who was leaning against a window, staring out at the city below them.

Sighing, Chandler shook his still-numb hand, only half-listening as the doctor told him what he couldn't do with the stitches in. Joey was okay. The men who had hurt him would be caught. His best friend would be okay.

And that was all that really mattered.

**I'm kind of sad to let it go. I just love Joey and Chandler. But it's over.**

**Review?**


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